


I Found A Love

by thedevilyousay



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilyousay/pseuds/thedevilyousay
Summary: It was a tradition they’d started not long after they’d begun dating, when Derek had first found out that Stiles spoke Polish fluently. They would play it like a game, usually over dinner, Stiles mostly but sometimes Derek asking questions or making statements in Polish that the other would then repeat back in English, a considerably more fun and immersive way to learn than flashcards or text. But Stiles has never had any trouble keeping Derek on his toes and this particular night comes as no exception.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fic based on the last super adorable quote from this [article.](https://www.theknot.com/content/proposal-stories-gay-lesbian-couples) Seriously, inspiration hit fast. 
> 
> And the title is from the Etta James [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypFLiZlmPyw) of the same name, a perfectly timed coincidence of chance that it was what I was listening to when said inspiration hit. 
> 
> That tooth rotting fluff tag is no joke, btw, proceed with caution. :)

Before Derek can even reach the door to their apartment, he can smell Stiles cooking. In fact, the elevator is only halfway to their floor but he begins to strip off his heavy outer layers anyway, knowing that Stiles would prefer if he left most, if not all of the dust and wood shavings on his clothes outside their actual home. 

The lift buzzes to let him know they’ve finally reached the correct floor and he tiredly begins to drag himself and all of his stuff out into the hallway, a small trail of detritus falling from him with each step. He can’t help but smile as the smell gets stronger the closer he gets, all herbs, garlic, and tomato sauce which can mean any number of things but he hopes is pizza.   

“Stiles?” he calls out, unlocking the door and setting his keys down on the entry table and slipping his boots off one foot at a time. It’s probably futile, he can hear the soft notes of Etta James floating out of the kitchen and Stiles quietly singing along under his breath, but he’s always promised to try anyway. It was Claudia who taught him you can never cook unless you have the proper music and it’s secretly one of Derek’s favorite sights to come home to, Stiles in his element as he candidly dances from one appliance to the next, comfortable enough to not  _ need _ to hear if anyone’s actually coming in the door.  

So, quietly as he can, he sneaks his way into the room, spotting a bowl of what must be the leftover sauce hanging out on the counter and forming a plan. He’s got a finger halfway dipped into the dish before he’s leaping back, as fast as he arrived, the wooden spoon that smacked his hand now being threateningly waved in his face.    
  
“You know better, Derek Hale. Paws off.” Stiles grins, taking the spoon back and moving over to the oven as it starts to beep. Derek resists the urge to growl at the  _ very _ old and tired dog joke but just rolls his eyes instead, obediently going to sit on his stool at the island so he can watch anyway. Like it was his idea and intention in the first place. 

Stiles pulls the pies out and sets them down out of the way before moving to start chopping at a head of lettuce. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again, both of them content to work and watch as the old, much loved music fills the silence before he begins to ask about Derek’s day, no formal greeting between them actually required. 

“It was long. I had to rush to finish that dining set for Isaac’s open house next week, apparently it’s on Monday now instead of Thursday, but I got it done. I do have good news, though. That stain you wanted, you know the one for the crib? It finally came in.” Stiles eyes immediately grow large with excitement and Derek has to reach out and stop his hand with the knife before an accident can occur.   
  
“What?! I thought you said it wasn’t going to be in for another three weeks!” 

Derek smirks and manages to steal a stray pepperoni off the cutting board, popping it into his mouth before answering. “It was, but I called in a favor. I know you wanted to have it for Allison’s baby shower and I also know of the bet you and Erica have going to see who can impress Lydia more with their gift.” 

Stiles manages to look sheepish as he finishes his chopping, but a small, pleased smile still plays at his lips.   
  
“You didn’t have to do that, Der. The crib would have been beautiful stained the perfect red or not because you made it. But,” and now he’s pointing the knife as sharp as his grin, “I would be lying if I said I can’t wait to rub Erica’s face in it, if not literally.” 

Derek shrugs, refusing to make a big deal out of it or formally pick a side, but smiles too. He gathers up the finished salad and their drinks to move to the table on their balcony, deciding the night is nice and warm enough to eat comfortably outside. He’s halfway in his seat, his ass practically touching the chair when Stiles’ sharp cry reaches him.

“Nu uh! Go clean up first! Get out of those nasty clothes so I’m not worried half of whatever is even on you will end up in all this food I’ve slaved half the day for.”   
  
“Really? Slaved? Half the day?” Derek questions, seriously put upon and grumbling. But he makes his way back into their bedroom despite, to at least wash his hands and arms more thoroughly and change into some comfortable sweats. Who says chivalry is dead. 

Stiles is already seated by the time he gets back, still humming quietly under his breath to the dialed down music as he waits patiently for Derek to return, the obnoxious (“They’re romantic, asshole!”) twinkle lights on their porch making his eyes look like liquid gold when he finally gazes up at Derek’s approach. Derek’s heart doesn’t forget to stutter in his chest at the sight, but he does his best to hide the accompanying dopey smile, knowing he’d never live it down and dinner would be cold and long forgotten by the time Stiles would be done making him pay for it.

“ _ Głodny? _ ” Stiles starts, looking far too pleased with himself to not have noticed Derek’s face despite his best effort.  

Derek groans but reaches for the pizza cutter, slicing first Stiles and then himself a piece each. Stiles has already dished out the salad, Derek’s favorite dressing sat right next to his plate.

“Hungry?” he returns. “You know I am.”

“ _ Jestem dobra panią domu, nieprawdaż? _ ”

“A good...wife of house? Housewife? Seriously?” This makes Derek huff but he moves his foot so that it’s gently rubbing Stiles’ ankle under the table anyway, the conversation flowing smoothly between them as they settle into old habit.

It was a tradition they’d started not long after they’d begun dating, when Derek had first learned that Stiles spoke Polish fluently. (“ _Tak! W tym samym miejscu!_ ” Derek, shocked, quit moving. “What did you just say?” “I said yes! Right there, dammit! Don’t stop, move!”)  Derek, ever the curious (especially if Stiles was going to speak another language in bed) student and a bit of a natural polyglot himself had asked if Stiles would teach him and Stiles had delightfully agreed. He hadn’t had anyone since Claudia to speak to regularly in what felt like his native tongue and as Derek learned, he quickly began to understand not only the language but how much it meant to Stiles to have someone he could converse with again. Since then, it had become unwritten law for them to play this game over dinner, Stiles usually but sometimes Derek asking questions or making statements in Polish that the other would repeat back in English. 

By the time they’re done with their meal, nothing but a single slice left between them as Stiles details the conversation he’d been forced to have with his Babica earlier in the day, Derek is only half participating in said game. He’s much more focused on the slight smudge of pizza sauce at the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth and his internal debate of whether he should bring it to his attention or just go ahead and lick it off himself. 

“Hey!  _ Oczy tutaj _ !” Derek’s eyes snap back up to meet Stiles, only mildly reprimanded that it had become so obvious he wasn’t paying attention. 

“What if I don’t want my eyes up there, hm?” He shoots back childishly, pulling an amused snort out of Stiles but not gaining any ground as the other man chooses to ignore him. 

“ _ Smakował ci obiad? _ ”

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Derek gestures to the empty plate in front of him. “What do you think?” 

“ _ Robi nie jest piekący osioł. Wolisz jesień czy wiosnę? _ ” 

This confuses Derek a little. Not the language, but the question. He decides to answer anyway, long ago accepting that by being in this relationship he’d silently agreed to humor Stiles in just about anything and everything. 

“You  _ love _ my smart ass. But do I like fall or spring better? Fall, of course.” 

“ _ Wolalbyś nosić czerń lub biel? _ ”    
  
“Would I rather wear black or white? Black. Should I be concerned you have to ask me that in the first place?” 

Stiles dips his chin, an uncharacteristically shy look but distinctive light blush beginning to grace his face, making Derek lean forward enough to be able to slide a comforting hand over Stiles’ knee. 

“Are you okay,  _ kochanie? _ ” Derek must be frowning as he asks because Stiles quickly reaches out to smooth the crinkles in the center of his forehead, an endearing habit that Derek will never admit delights him as much as it does. He gets enough petting jokes as it is. 

“ _ Oczywiście. Teraz pozwól mi skończyć. Róże czy dalie? _

“Shutup. Let me do this. Roses or dahlias? Um, dahlias, I guess.” Derek’s confusion isn’t gone but he translates word for word, steadfast in his desire to play along at whatever Stiles is up to, whether he understands or not. He never worries of growing bored, at least.  

“ _ Rano lub wieczorem? _   
  
“Morning or night? Night.” Derek begins to laugh softly, unable to help but be amused at this bizarre questionnaire that Stiles has apparently decided to spring on him. 

“ _ Wewnątrz lub na zewnątrz? _ ”

“Inside or outside? Well, I mean, that depends. But outside, I suppose.”

“ _ Srebro lub złoto? _ ”

“Silver or gold? Gold.” 

“ _ Wyjdziesz za mnie? _

“Will you marry me?”

“...Will you, Derek Hale?”

Stunned, Derek is still trying to register the question when Stiles produces a small black velvet box and slides it slowly across the table, his cheeks mottled a noticeably brighter, blush red than before despite the dim lighting. After almost a full minute of bewildered silence, Derek can hear Stiles heart start to race and his breaths become more and more shallow. 

“No!”    
  
This makes Stiles physically cringe, pulling his hand back and clutching it to his chest with the other and Derek realizes what he’s done. 

“Stiles, no! No, calm down. I mean yes! Absolutely yes, holy fuck.  _ Tak!" _

Derek stands and pulls Stiles out of his chair, peppering small kisses all over his face in apology, distraught that he had made Stiles think for even a second that Derek would say anything but yes. Stiles whole body sinks in relief against him after a few minutes and he giggles in relief, all of the anxiety finally bleeding out of him. Derek takes it a step further and backs him up against the edge of the balcony, lifting him onto the wide rail and making it easier to bury his face in Stiles neck, so happy he can hardly stand it. 

“Wow, Der. I take everything back. You, my darling wolf, are terrifying. An apex predator of the night. A heart stealing, proposal ruining-”

“I didn’t ruin it! It was perfect!” Derek gasps, refusing to not defend their crowning moment.

“Your first response was no! Non!  _ Nie _ ! When we retell this to our grandchildren, you’re going to be the antagonist! The villain!”

They stay like that for a while, wrapped around each other and arguing, a proper precedent for what their lives are probably going to look like forever but both unequivocally thrilled about it. Eventually, Stiles begins to fidget and Derek decides to end the bickering the best way he knows how: by stopping Stiles mouth with his own. 

When he finally pulls back, Stiles expression can only be described as dreamy and Derek is sure his is a mirror.

“ _ No i? Popatrzysz w końcu na ten pierścionek? _ ” 

(Well? Are you going to look at the ring?)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I don't speak Polish. If you do and these translations are as awful as I suspect despite my best efforts, please feel free to yell at me until they're corrected if you feel like it. I'll totally understand.~~
> 
>  
> 
> New and incredibly improved translations by the super lovely [really-annoying](http://really-annoying.tumblr.com/) who is anything but! Thank you again, so much!
> 
> Comments and kudos are <3\. 
> 
> And, as always, you can find me on [tumblr.](http://witchspark.tumblr.com) Don't be a stranger! Unless you want to be. Like, whatever, we don't _have_ to be friends, I guess. I GUESS.


End file.
